by N. C. Reed
“Dad,” he said calmly. “You're back early.”
“Got done quicker 'n we thought,” Gordon tried to sound as calm as Clay. “Is this gonna be trouble, son?”
“Nothing I can't handle,” Clay smiled even as the door to the lead semi opened and a massive black man wearing black BDU pants and a tan tee shirt climbed down. Gordon watched without comment as the huge stranger walked straight up to his son, who had yet to move.
And hugged him.
-
“Let’s get you inside and get your things stored,” Clay said. “Then we can catch up. You got everything delicate in the motor homes, right?”
“Or one of the other vehicles that go into storage,” Barnes nodded. “The trailers are all things that won't be affected. Clothing, food stores, ammunition and so on. Anything and everything electronic is stored inside a vehicle.”
“Far building, then,” Clay said. “Unhook the trailers on the pad beside the building and then we can park the trucks inside. There should be room for everything if you park right. It 'll be a tight fit, but it should work,” he said, eyeing the lowboy.
“You 'll like that,” Barnes told him. “That's why it took us so long to get here,” he added as he levered himself back into the truck. “Big surprise.”
Soon the small convoy was going through the gate, Clay waving as the trucks each tapped their horns, nodding to the women driving the smaller vehicles.
“Son?” Gordon called as the Humvee, the last one in line, went through the gate.
“That is my back up plan,” Clay told his father. “Half of my old teammates from our Africa days.”
“Why are they here?” Gordon asked. “Not that it's any of my business,” he said before Clay could answer. This place was his son's after all.
“Safety in numbers, Dad,” Clay told him. “Safety in numbers. We all decided we would meet up somewhere, and make a stand. Of course we were expecting a nuclear war, remember? When I got here and saw the Troy place for sale, I sent them a message that I had found the perfect place to hole up and hunker down. So, they decided to pitch in here.”
“Once I found out we might not be facing a nuclear strike, four of them decided to ride things out at their own places instead of here, but the rest,” he waved at the vehicles pulling around behind the farm house, “came here.”
“We didn't plan on feeding. . .how many extra people?” Gordon asked.
“They brought their own, Dad,” Clay just smiled. “They aren't here to mooch. And them being here makes us stronger. Those six guys are worth a dozen men each in the kind of combat we might see here.”
“Combat?” Gordon hadn't liked anything he had heard so far, and that least of all.
“Let’s get off the road, Dad,” Clay said as another vehicle approached. “Go on over to the house and I 'll be by as soon as I get them squared away. Fair enough?”
“All right,” Gordon nodded, reluctant but recognizing that the middle of the road was no place to have a discussion. He climbed back in and drove the one hundred or so yards to the Sanders' long drive.
“He says those men used to be his soldiers,” he told Angela. “That this was part of his plan all along. Part of their plan I should say,” he corrected. “They all agreed to ride things out together. Some dropped out when they found out it might not be a nuke strike, but six of them, and I guess their families, came here.”
“Can we feed so many extra people?” Angela asked.
“He says they have their own,” Gordon shrugged. “You can pack a lot of groceries into a semi-trailer,” he admitted. “All those vehicles looked full too.”
“I don't know if I like the idea of so many strange people on our farm,” Angela said as they made it to the house.
“Not our farm,” Gordon reminded her. “His. Clay owns the Troy place now, Angela. And he isn't doing anything he said he wouldn't. They got their own gear and their own food. They're on his land. And,” he put the truck in park and shut it off, “if we have trouble of the kind that this sort of emergency can bring, six trained commandos just might be a comfort in a trying time.”
“I suppose that is true,” she nodded. “Lets get this stuff put away so we can talk when he gets here. We have to watch the time.”
-
“Come on, come on, come on. . .Whoa!” Barnes held a hand up and the second motor home jolted to a stop. Clay had been surprised to see a woman driving the semi with the lowboy behind it, but admitted he shouldn't have. She had handled the rig better than the guys had handled theirs, anyway. She had parked the trailer and disconnected from it, parking her truck in storage. She was an impressive specimen he decided.
She had to be at least six feet tall and her arms bulged with muscle. Blonde hair fell around her shoulders. While not glamorous, Clay could see that she wasn't exactly ugly, either. She just didn't seem to be worried about putting up a front. Clay could respect that.
“Not bad, huh?” Barnes grinned as he walked up beside Clay.
“Yours?” he asked, looking at the bigger man.
“No way, brother,” Barnes shook his head. “Mister and Misses Barnes' baby boy don't want nor need a woman that can whip his ass.”
Clay burst into laughter at that, clapping Barnes on the shoulder.
“Tandi's girl,” Barnes went on, nodding to the muscled blonde.
“You're kidding,” Clay stopped laughing. Tandi Maseo was easily the smallest member of their former unit. Five feet six inches tall, he had to fill his pocket with rocks to weigh in at two hundred pounds. All of that was fighter mind you, and he was as savage as any of them in combat, but Tandi Maseo would never be considered a big man.
“Just telling you the facts as I know 'em,” Barnes shrugged in a 'believe what you want' gesture. “But that's who she bunks down with at night,” he added with a grin.
“Good for him,” Clay nodded, watching as the small man with slightly oriental features approached the giantess and she leaned down to kiss him.
“Well,” Clay turned away rather than intrude on a private moment. “You got this, sergeant?” he asked Barnes. “I need to go explain to my folks who y'all are and why you're here.”
“You ain't done told them we're coming?” Barnes frowned. “If they don't want us here-”
“This place is mine,” Clay shook his head. “Twelve hundred acres worth. I don't need nobody's permission to have people on my own place. Even brought your own stuff,” he chuckled. “Speaking of staying,” Clay took a set of keys from his pocket and handed them over.
“The house,” he explained. “Four bedrooms, two-and-a-half baths, there's a den that's placed where it could be a fifth bedroom if you want. Anyway, it may be a tight fit for a few days until we can make sure it's safe to open the building back up and you can get your motor homes out, but it's a really nice place. Beer in the fridge,” he added with a wink.
“Nice,” Barnes took the keys with a grin. “Well, we need to unload I guess,” he grew more serious. “All we have to do is close the door, right?” he ensured.
“And make sure that the cables,” Clay pointed to where one was visible, “are connected to the stakes. When you're done pulling vehicles inside, you'll find stakes through the walls behind them and cables attached or alloy chains. Make sure each vehicle has one wrapped around the frame somewhere. That should do it. There are cabinets along the front and back walls to either side of the doors that are coated and grounded already. Anything really delicate you can put in those for extra protection. Anything vital, for instance. And if you have spare parts loaded, that's a good place for them.”
“Awesome sauce,” Barnes nodded. “We 'll holler.”
“I 'll be back in a bit,” Clay promised.
-
“This is the kind of thing that can get me sent to prison,” the producer said quietly as he looked at the information. “And there's no way to confirm it, either,” he added, looking at the broker.
“She's a solid reporter who has wo
rked a job for two years looking for a scoop like this,” the broker told him. “That should be your confirmation. If they can ever pin this to her, she 'll be in prison. And you can't be jailed over something like this and you know it as well as I do.” He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair.
“Now she's willing to appear on air so long as her face is obstructed and her voice altered,” he continued. “And time is running out,” he noted, looking at his watch. “It's three-thirty now. You want to move on this as soon as you can or you may get scooped.”
“Let’s talk money then,” the producer said, laying the documents aside. “For an exclusive,” he specified.
“Well, here's the thing...”
And thus, the haggling commenced. A half-hour later the young reporter was behind a screen talking into a vocorder, answering questions about her scoop.
And about to set the world ablaze.
-
Lainie and the kids were at the drive-thru window when radio made a warbling tone, cutting off in the middle of a popular song.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the disc jockey sounded rattled. “Folks, we're about to link you to a live news report that is about to loop over to repeat and…you need to listen to this, folks. I can't attest to the accuracy of this, but it seems real. I checked some of the science on this through the internet and so far, everything I've found is consistent with what's being said. Here we go, it's starting again now...” Lainie pulled the truck over and stopped, turning the radio up.
“This can't be good,” Leanne sighed.
“. . .ome forward now?” they heard a reporter asking.
“I got this information a few hours ago,” a distorted voice replied after a few seconds. “I was scared and didn't know exactly what to do with it, but I knew people needed to be warned, and the government wasn't going to do it. If this is even partially accurate as to the potential damage...”
“How likely is that, do you think?” the reporter asked.
“I'm no expert on this kind of thing, but NASA, for all that it's a government operation, is usually dependable when it comes to sciences. And there are a number of independent confirmations from experts around the world. Based on the report and the information I had in my hand, it seemed accurate and I felt like it needed to be released. People need to know what's coming.”
“What will you say to those who think this is some kind of grandstanding?” the reporter asked.
“Nothing,” the voice replied. “This report isn't my work. I'm just passing it on. If it's accurate, I get no credit for that. If it's wrong, I get no blame. But in good conscience, how do you not give this information to the people who will be most affected when this magnetic. . .storm, for lack of a better term, sweeps across this planet?”
“Uh oh,” the twins chimed.
“We need to go,” Leanne told her Aunt.
“Now,” Leon agreed with a nod, looking around them. Lainie didn't argue, putting the truck in gear and easing to the road. Traffic blessedly clear, she moved into the road and started for the farm as fast as was safe to do so.
-
“Clay was right,” Alicia was stunned as she sat next to Ronny in the grocery parking lot of Whitehall's Supermarket in Lewiston, a community a bit larger than and perhaps five miles further away than Peabody from the Sanders farm.
“I seem to recall our children telling you the same thing,” Ronny nodded as he immediately pulled into traffic and started the for home.
“What are you doing?” Alicia demanded. “We were going to get a-”
“We're not stopping to get anything to eat,” Ronny shook his head. “This is going to turn the world upside down and we are not going to be in it unless we have to be. Got it?”
“Humph.” Alicia crossed her arms and proceeded to semi-pout. Ronny ignored her and drove for home.
-
Robert and Patricia were sitting in her clinic in Jordan eating a take-out burger in silence when Renee Jackson came running into the back.
“Radio, radio, where's t-there!” she told herself as she lunged for the small portable radio they kept at their desk. It was constantly being moved and it was always a search to locate it.
“What are you in such a rush over?” Patricia asked.
“Big story on the radio!” Renee told her. “Something about the sun exploding or something!”
“What?” Robert and Patricia exchanged glances then looked back to the nurse.
“. . .d conscience, how do you not give this information to the people who will be most affected when this magnetic. . .storm, for lack of a better term, sweeps across this planet?”
“And there you have it folks,” the DJ cut in as the interview wrapped up. “This was aired not a half hour ago and has shot across the world in that short time. Social media has exploded, pardon the pun, and the internet has all but crashed, the traffic demand is so high. We have a T1 line here and still we're crawling at the moment. If you can get on, we're streaming the news report live as it happens on our website, as well as this interview.”
“Phone lines are lighting up, but before I answer any calls, let me say that I don't have any more information that you do now. I heard this story going out and basically pirated it off the air to play for you because it was so fantastic. Like I said, the science here is real, and as far as I could see before...”
“A solar storm,” Robert said softly. “This will destroy radio. Did they say how long?” he asked Renee.
“Maybe four or five hours,” the nurse shrugged. “What can we do?” she asked them.
“We're going home,” Patricia declared. “We need to lock this place down, and make sure the drugs are in the safe. People will panic over this and until things settle down I'm going to be at home. I'm glad I went to the grocery before I came to work,” she sighed.
“What? Why?” Renee looked puzzled.
“I promise you that Peabody and every other town is in an upheaval right now,” Patricia told her. “No way I'm trying to go and get food in that mess.”
“I...I don't have hardly anything at home,” Renee looked stricken at the thought. “My God, I've got to go to the grocery!” she exclaimed. Before anyone could say anything, she ran back out of the clinic. The receptionist was behind her. Their LPN had the day off, so now it was just Robert and Patricia.
“Help me,” she told him simply and started gathering drugs.
“What are we doing?” he asked as she started putting things into a tub.
“I'm taking these medicines home,” she said flatly. “There's no reason to leave them here to be plundered by someone looking for a fix. Go and lock the door,” she told him. “We're closed.”
Twenty minutes later the back of her SUV was stuffed with medicines and equipment that she hoped to save and she and Robert were on their way home.
Amid a flurry of panicked driving and desperate grabbing of things that people realized they had to get.
For the first time Robert began to see, really see, what Clay had been so worried about.
“Looks like Clay was right,” his wife spoke his thoughts aloud as she drove. “Look at this mess. Do you need to go by your shop?”
“Nothing left there,” he shook his head. “All of it is locked down. Lets just try to go home.”
-
“Pump,” Leon said suddenly just before they reached the hardware store.
“Pump?” Leanne repeated. “Pump!” she repeated as she realized what he meant. “Aunt Lainie stop here!” she cried, pointing to the hardware store.
“What? Why?” Lainie demanded even as she did as Leanne ordered.
“We ordered a water pump,” Leon told her. “In case of fire we need a way to pump water. It's already paid for. And we need it.”
“Are you sure?” Lainie asked even as two cars collided up the street in front of a small grocery store.
“Very,” he nodded. “Pull around to the dock,” he added. Lainie did so, and backed in while Leanne watched f
or her. Leon was out before the truck stopped moving.
“What do you kids want?” Charley Mack, the manager, asked as Leanne got out. “I'm trying to-well, hello,” he changed his tune as Lainie got out. “Who is this pretty lady?” he asked, smiling.
“She's Uncle Clay's girlfriend,” Leanne took great pleasure in saying. “Might want to be careful about that,” she added with a smirk.
“Clay's girlfriend?” Mack's attitude changed immediately. “Didn't know he had one. Anyway, what do you want?”
“We're supposed to pick up a water pump for Uncle Clay,” Leon said. “Already paid for, we just had to come and get it.”
“Well, I don't know if I can let anything go until we see what happens with-”
“Do we have to go back home and tell Uncle Clay that you kept something he already paid for?” Leon asked innocently. “I really don't wanna have to do that,” he sounded a bit worried.
“Now I didn't say anything like that,” Mack held up a hand. “Just don't have any help left hardly. Let me see if I can get it loaded with the lift or something. Pull away from the dock and down by the loading door and maybe I can set it inside with the fork.”
“What was that all about?” Lainie asked as the three got back inside to move the truck.
“What was what all about?” Leanne asked.
“Calling Clay's name so much?” Lainie specified.
“Uncle Clay's kind of a bad-ass,” Leon shrugged. “People pay attention when you use his name or Pa Leon's. Guess Pa was like that when he was younger.”
Lainie fought to keep a straight face as she nodded her understanding.
“I see.”
“Charley Mack fancies himself a ladies man,” Leanne added. “He would have hit on you if I hadn't mentioned Uncle Clay.”
“I can take care of myself, Leanne,” Lainie chided.
“I'm sure you can,” the girl nodded as Lainie backed the truck up to the overhead door. “But we don't have time for that today. Using Uncle Clay's name was the quickest way to get Mack to shut up and do his job.”
“And Uncle Clay won't mind once he hears that Mack tried to pick you up,” Leon nodded firmly. “So, we took the quickest way out.”